by Liz Mistry
Thomas looked doubtful, but Serafina grabbed his arm, ‘I mean it, Thomas. We do this properly, okay? Promise me? No matter what dad says, we get the police involved and we direct them to Anastazy?’
Thomas nodded and, satisfied, Serafina rested her head on the wall, closed her eyes and waited to find out the fate of her brother. She may have told Thomas they should go to the police, but in her own mind she wasn’t at all sure what they could do. After all, she’d no real proof of any of it; Anastazy was too clever to make mistakes like that.
22:55 Northcliffe Park, Shipley
Gus nodded at the officer who was securing crime scene tape across the outer cordon and, with Sadia following, marched over to the paramedics who were positioning a trolley at the back of the ambulance prior to raising it into the back. He could see a young woman lying prone on the stretcher, an oxygen mask obscuring her features.
‘What’s the prognosis?’ he asked, as the female paramedic jumped into the ambulance beside her patient and the other medic ran round to jump into the cab. With a brief smile at Gus, she said, ‘Stable, unconscious and we’ll know more later. We’re taking her to BRI.’
Gus backed off as the doors slammed shut. The engine started and the blue ambulance lights flashed as they turned right and sped off along Keighley road towards the hospital. Turning, he saw that Hissing Sid was approaching from the entrance of the park. He gestured to Gus and, as he and Sadia approached, he thrust two bunny suits at them. ‘Suit up and follow me. I’ll show you the scene. At least this girl’s alive. One of her mates found her. Apparently, they’re doubling up where they can these days.’
Struggling into his suit, Gus peered into the depths of the park where he could see the crime scene lights shining. ‘What you got for us, Sid?’ Then, hearing Sadia groan, he turned towards her and saw her wriggling her nose moments before Hissing Sid’s offering hit his own nostrils, ‘Fuck’s sake, Sid. That’s bloody toxic.’ It never ceased to amaze Gus that so intelligent a man in his late forties could still reap such childlike enjoyment from producing noxious gasses.
‘Well, you asked what I’d got… and I showed you. You should be careful what you wish for.’
Gus could see Sid’s eyes sparkle behind his mask and, despite himself, a grin spread over his face as he chided, ‘No need to be so bloody proud of yourself. Come on, let’s go before we need to fumigate the area.’
Chortling, Sid, after waiting for them to sign in, led them towards the scene. ‘As you can see the bastard violated her with a broken bottle – that’s where all the blood has come from.’ He shook his head. ‘That poor girl will never be the same again, you know?’
Seeing the glitter of tears in the other man’s eyes before he blinked them away, Gus sympathised. He knew that at scenes like this, Sid normally worked around the dead bodies and his focus was on reading the scene. This was one of those rare cases where Sid was faced with a living victim and that was hard. To see the pain and trauma in a living person was always different. Not that Sid wasn’t sympathetic to the dead. Gus knew he was and that’s why he did his job so well – but there was always one case or situation that hit you in the solar plexus and kept you awake at night. Gus suspected that this was one of those cases for Sid.
Sid turned to his right and pointed to a girl who, bundled in a blanket, sat sideways on in the passenger seat of a paramedic first responder van. ‘That girl over there saved her life. Her name’s–’
‘Armani’ said Alice, who’d approached, without them hearing her.
Gus turned, ‘Hi Al, you know her then?’
Alice nodded. ‘She’s a regular at The Prossie Palace. She was in the group Sampson and I spoke with earlier on today.’ She frowned, ‘We both got the idea that she was the leader and that she was stopping the other girl’s from telling us something. Maybe this’ll change her mind. Who’s the girl who was attacked?’
‘Charlotte something or other,’ said Sid walking off to direct his team.
Alice exhaled. ‘She was there today too. She was the one who brought the Eastern European girl to the Prossie Palace. She seemed to be a friend of Armani’s, poor thing. I’ll get her statement if you like, Gus?’
Knowing how heavily invested Alice was in The Prossie Palace, Gus nodded. ‘Great. Sadia and I will head to BRI see if we can talk to Charlotte.’
He turned back to Sid, ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got anything else?’
Sid walked over to a marker and crouched down, indicating that Gus should follow suit. ‘Because of all the damn rain we’ve been lucky.’ And he pointed to the floor.
Gus grinned. ‘Footprints in the mud. Brilliant!’
‘They’re clearly from the struggle as he tried to subdue Charlotte. You can see some are overlapped with Charlottes shoes but there are a few prints that are notably clear and, luckily for us, we’ve been able to cast them before the rain started causing more deterioration.’
The prints indicated quite a ferocious struggle. Charlotte clearly fought hard yet he’d still managed to subdue her enough, presumably through asphyxiation, to violate her with the bottle. She must have been absolutely petrified and, because of the previous murders she’d have known what was to come. He hoped she’d recover well, but he knew her injuries would be as much psychological as physical.
‘Yep,’ continued Sid, clearly pleased with himself. ‘You find me the footwear and we’ll match these prints to the bastard. It’s practically indisputable in a court of law because everyone’s gait is different. It would be almost unheard of for two different people to produce the same footprints from the same brand of shoe, or in this case trainer. My folk will get back to you with make and size et cetera later. All you need to do is bring me the suspect and the trainers.’
Gus could’ve kissed Sid. This was the first concrete piece of evidence they’d found so far and when they found the bastard who was doing this it’d go a long way towards ensuring a conviction.
23:15 Wyke
With a sizeable glass of Bombay Sapphire and tonic on the table beside him, Brighton flicked through the photographs he’d taken earlier. He’d printed them off minutes before on his home printer, after selecting the clearest, most incriminating ones from the bunch. Living on his own, he enjoyed the freedom that came from being divorced. He had everything he needed: his gin, the adult channels on his TV, and a pile of takeaway menus from every continent, from the Chinky’s down the road to the Iti’s and the Paki’s in Wyke village itself. Then, of course, there was the odd visit from Sam from across the road. She knew he was always willing when she fancied being serviced by a real man rather than a poncy banker with a limp wrist.
Taking a sip of his gin, he picked up the photos one by one, twisting them this way and that. He was particularly pleased with the close ups. They clearly showed Gus nuzzling Sadia’s neck as she closed the curtains. No room for misinterpretation there, he thought. Clear view, steady hand; I’ve excelled myself. Almost up to a professional standard, he thought. Then he frowned. It was all fine and well that he’d done what he was asked to do, but he suspected that this wasn’t evidence DCS Hussain had expected and he didn’t want to be shot as the messenger. He’d seen that happen too many times before and he’d no desire to incur the wrath of Hannibal Hussain. On the other hand, needs must. He’d been entrusted by the man himself to ‘keep an eye on his daughter’, and he took his responsibilities very seriously.
He might not actually like DCS Hussain, but he accepted that Hussain was his ticket forward. He’d blotted his copy book too many times in the past and he knew that this unlikely alliance with Hussain was his last chance to progress in the force. The fact that he’d managed to ingratiate himself with Hussain by covering for his three stooges after that unsuccessful drug raid two months ago, had put him in prime position to exploit his advantage. Hussain was blinded by his fears for his daughter’s moral well-being and he hated her being on Gus’ team so it had been easy for Brighton to get him to agree to reward his loyalty by placin
g him on the team with her. In DCI Nancy Chalmers’ absence, Hussain was in charge. The move out of uniform was something Brighton had wanted for ages and Hussain had been more than happy to oblige. His displeasure with Gus was well known at the Fort, and Brighton was happy to exploit that.
He spread the photos across the table and sipped his gin. The thing he had to consider was the risk factor in giving Hussain the incriminating photos at this point. Who knew how the man would react to his Muslim daughter screwing a half-caste wog. God, these Pakis could be really defensive when it came to their daughters. Last thing he needed was for Hussain to flip and do one of those honour killings. He laughed out loud at the very thought of the staid Hussain doing something so crass. As Pakis went, he supposed Hussain wasn’t too bad. At least he didn’t waltz around in one of those bloody nightdresses like some of them did.
He drained his glass and poured himself another. He’d gone above and beyond the call of duty in staking out McGuire’s house and following Sadia, but it had paid off. He just wasn’t too sure if the results would weigh in his favour, or if Hussain might think he’d gone too far. He was quite unpredictable. He’d a bit of a reputation of being a stickler for the rules, but he’d been happy to bend them to save his minions earlier.
Sighing, Brighton swept the photos into a pile in the centre of the table and decided to make up his mind in the morning. Standing up, he checked the living room curtains were drawn fully, grabbed the bottle of baby oil he hid in his kitchen cupboard, settled himself in his comfy sofa, undid his flies and put on one of the adult channels he liked so much… nothing like a good wank to round off a productive day.
23:45 Bradford Royal Infirmary
It had taken two minutes for Anastazy to sweet talk his way into the Critical Care Unit. He’d lied and said he was Jacob’s brother and, whether it was because she liked a ‘bad boy’ or because she was nervous of him, the little nurse with the red hair had smiled and directed him to the relatives waiting room.
He stood outside the door, staring through the small window into the room. They’d dimmed the lights, but he could clearly see four distinct bundles slumped in chairs pulled together to make makeshift beds where they could rest their feet. Serafina had scrunched up her coat and was using it as a pillow, whilst her brothers had pulled their hoodies up over their heads and down past their foreheads to cover their eyes. Her parents sat at opposite ends of the room – very telling, Anastazy thought, smiling. He glanced towards the entrance as a trolley burst through the doors. It was carrying a young woman attached to various monitors and with an oxygen mask covering her face. The wheels squeaked obscenely, jarring with the silence of the unit as it was guided by the same red haired nurse into a room further along. A registrar in green scrubs followed looking frazzled. Looks like Jacob’s not the only one having a rough night tonight. Anastazy turned his attention back to the occupants of the waiting room.
Pushing the door open, he slithered in without making a noise; a silent snake prowling for sustenance. Taking a single step towards Serafina, he felt someone’s eyes on him. He spun round and saw that her mother was awake and watching him, her face pale and her skinny frame dwarfed by the padded chair she sprawled in. He nodded once and refocussed his attention on Serafina who, eyes shut, rubbed her thumb over her crucifix. No doubt praying for Jacob, a stupid gesture that irked Anastazy beyond reason. He couldn’t understand the faith people put in God even after being dealt so many harsh blows. His lips tightened. When she was his she could forget about that stupid crucifix and her stupid God. The only person he’d allow her to worship would be him. He stepped towards her, intent on ripping the necklace from her hands but, before he reached her he felt small fists pummel his back.
Annoyed by the interruption, he reached behind him and, with one hand, effortlessly circled both of Serafina’s mum’s wrists. He yanked her round to stand in front of him like a ragdoll and, aware, but uncaring, that the scuffle had drawn the attention of her dad and brothers, he raised his free hand, bunched his fingers into a fist and, before the petite woman could react, he hit her, putting all his weight behind the punch. A dark bubble rose in his chest as his fist connected with flesh. What was wrong with this woman? Twice in the one day he’d had to reprimand her. He felt his breathing quicken and white lights flashed in his eyes as he lifted his hand ready to punch her again. From somewhere in the depths of his consciousness he heard a voice telling him to ‘stop’. It may have been Serafina’s but he didn’t know for sure. The flashing lights faded and were replaced by the dazed expression of Serafina’s mum. Her eyes were dilated and already he could see a bruise forming on her jaw. He’d expected her to have raised her hands to protect herself but instead they hung limp by her side. Her complete recapitulation left him drained. He was better than this. More powerful, stronger. He didn’t need to dominate Serafina’s mother to make her do his bidding… not when she had two brothers who were much more interesting adversaries.
He turned to the two boys who, still half asleep, were attempting to process the scene. With a sneer, he raised two fingers in a horizontal V to his eyes and then flicked them to each boy in turn, in the universal ‘I’ve got my eye on you’ sign. Their bodies tensed, but as they each took a step back, Anastazy laughed, flicking a glance at their dad who’d remained in his chair, his eyes hooded, betraying no emotion.
With a derisive snort he directed his attention to Serafina. As he released her mum, allowing her to slip to the floor like a discarded marionette, he heard a gasp catch in the girl’s throat. Stepping over her mum’s prone figure, he approached Serafina as she scrambled to her feet. Seeing the anger flashing from her eyes and the way her entire body seemed to shudder in reaction, he felt himself harden. God, but she was beautiful, exquisite even. He looked forward to savouring her. When she launched herself at him, he laughed, enjoying her spirit and, more importantly, the prospect of taming it, as he blocked her ferocious, but ineffectual, punches. Behind him he was aware that her brothers were helping her mother to her feet, but he didn’t care. The older woman had been an obstacle and he’d dealt with her with his usual efficiency. Perhaps a step too far… But, he just didn’t care.
Using his superior strength, he pulled the struggling girl into his embrace, sniffing her hair, breathing her in. Then, with a suddenness that took Anastazy by surprise, Mathias prised his daughter away from the younger man and inserted himself between them. When he spoke, his voice was chilling. ‘You forget yourself, Anastazy. My son is in intensive care and my family are distraught, yet you come here and assault my wife and my daughter?’
For long seconds the two men stared each other out, then Anastazy smiled, splaying his hands before him in apology. ‘You’re right, Mathias, I’m sorry.’ He turned to Serafina’s mother. ‘I’m sorry, you took me by surprise and I was momentarily disorientated. Thought I was under attack. I hope you are okay?’
Drawing the back of her hand over her mouth, Sofia left a smear of blood on her chin. She looked from Anastazy, to her husband and back. Her puzzlement was clear, yet she nodded before resuming her seat. She pulled her coat up under her chin as if it were a suit of armour that could protect her from everything that was going on in the room. Her fear fed Anastazy, who savoured the euphoria that surged through his veins. Now he knew he had the Nadratowski family exactly where he wanted them and it felt good… damn good.
Ignoring the rest of the family, he directed his words to Mathias. ‘I heard what happened to Jacob and rushed straight here to offer my support to you all.’
Serafina snorted; chin raised, eyes narrowed she glared at him. ‘You did this. I know you did. Just as you stabbed Hasnain this afternoon, you stabbed Jacob.’
Feigning anguish, Anastazy frowned. ‘Serafina, my sweetheart, how can you think I am responsible for this. I wouldn’t hurt someone you hold dear.’
‘You just punched my mother, didn’t you, and you hit her earlier too. You are an animal, Anastazy.’
Anastazy’s lips ti
ghtened. ‘I’ve explained that, Serafina. She took me by surprise and I regret my reaction. But, you know as well as I do that in the area of Poland I’m from, quick reflexes are essential. Now I’m safe here, in Bradford, I need to learn to control my instincts a little bit. Please forgive me.’
Mathias glared at his daughter and said in a warning tone, ‘Serafina!’
After a second, Serafina, avoiding eye contact with either of them, nodded once.
Satisfied, Anastazy lifted his gaze to encompass Luka and Thomas. For a moment, he studied the boys’ sullen expressions. Recognising that they would not be easy to appease, he smiled and held out a hand to Luka. The boy looked at it but made no move to reciprocate until his father, with a growl, ordered him to. After repeating the gesture with Thomas, Anastazy nodded to Mathias and said, ‘A word please. Outside?’
23:55 Bradford Royal Infirmary
Gus pressed the bell for entry to the Critical Care Unit at BRI. Charlotte had been admitted to the CCU after being stabilised in A&E. Gus had been told the bleeding had been extensive but had been stopped. Charlotte was now in an induced coma for the shock. She’d been strangled repeatedly and they were unsure how long she’d been starved of oxygen. He’d been told that bruising covered most of her body and he knew there was no way they’d get a statement from her any time soon. Nonetheless, he wanted to introduce himself to the ward staff and see her for himself. He always felt this way about the victims he represented, whether they were alive or dead… fortunately for Charlotte, she’d been found in time… or so he hoped.
A smiley red haired nurse who inspired confidence walked them along the corridor. As they reached the door to Charlotte’s room, she turned to greet two men who were leaving the ward. ‘Everything okay, Mr Nadratowski?’ she asked.
